


Beyond words

by Thesoma



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Dom/sub Undertones, Incest, Itachi is a bastard, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex, Sibling Incest, Sorry Not Sorry, sasuke loves it, slight cbt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9542822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesoma/pseuds/Thesoma
Summary: Our encounters always follow the same pattern: We watch each other carefully, then try to deceive each other with Genjutsu before we really get down to business and proceed to destroy our entire surroundings within a radius of several hundred meters while using up all of our Chakra, spearing just some sparks of it to keep us alive. Then, when we can’t hurt each other anymore and can be absolutely sure there is nobody alive nearby to bear witness to what is happening, we have sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Unbeschreiblich](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9521219) by [Thesoma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesoma/pseuds/Thesoma). 



> This is my first time posting something in english... and it's not my mother language ^^"  
> So if you notice any mistakes (or if it just doesn't sound right or something), feel absolutely free to point them out to me and I will be happy to correct them.
> 
> But yeah, anyway... I wrote this years ago as a present and yesterday I was bored out of my mind, but didn't feel creative enough to write something new, so I thougt: Why not translate something? I translated a lot of stories from englisch to german already, but never the other way round... it was an adventure, but absolutely worth it! I loved doing it and I hope at least some of you love this little peace of smus as much as I do

What connects me and my brother goes much deeper than anything another human could ever possibly understand. What connects us is deeper than the same blood, the same black hair and pale skin, even deeper than our bloodline limit, which in it’s way shaped our whole lifes by making us outstanding Ninja.

No. What’s between us, what is there, was there and will always be there can’t be described with words alone. He couldn’t destroy it by wiping out our entire clan and I couldn’t destroy it by letting my hate for him eat up my soul. Maybe that is the reason why our meetings are always the same. Since I left Konoha to train with Orochimaru and find Itachi, I met him seven times.

Our encounters always follow the same pattern: We watch each other carefully, then try to deceive each other with Genjutsu – which, of course, doesn’t work because we both have the Sharingan – before we really get down to business and proceed to destroy our entire surroundings within a radius of several hundred meters while using up all of our Chakra, spearing just some sparks of it to keep us alive. Then, when we can’t hurt each other anymore and can be absolutely sure there is nobody alive nearby to bear witness to what is happening, we have sex. I don’t know why, I really don’t – what in all hells drives me to fuck my big brother mere minutes after trying to kill him?

I don’t know the answer to this question, but one thing is clear: My desire to fuck him is almost as big as my desire to kill him. I guess if I can’t have one thing, I simply take the other.

Today marks the eighth encounter, this time I found him in a forest some miles south of Kumogakure, far enough from the village that probably nobody will notice us. And even if they notice, at the earliest the scouts will be here an hour after the start of the physical fight (nobody can detect the Genjutsu-duels after all) and we don’t even need an hour if we include sex. So no problems whatsoever.

But something is different this time. Itachi didn’t attack me yet, he didn’t even move from the spot in the middle of the little clearing I found him on. Suspicious of his passivity, I haven’t attacked either.  
“Sasuke,” he says in his monotone voice, this voice that seems far too deep for his frail looking body. “We both know what will be happening. Why don’t we skip the painful part and go straight to sex?”

My jaw literally drops at his words. For a whole minute, I just stare at him incredulous, before stammering: “W-what?”

“Do I have to repeat myself?,” he asks. “I at least hoped for some basic comprehension of human language, as I correctly guessed there was no hope of proactivity from your side in this matter. But in easier words so you may understand me correctly: I want to fuck you, little brother. Now, preferably.”  
The vulgar words seem so wrong from his mouth, so inappropriate for the image of him I keep in my head, that I close my eyes, open them again and stare at him for the second time, before activating my Sharingan to stare at him a third time through them just to make sure it is really him standing there.

But it is him after all, which just makes what he just said even more unbelievable. Unable to cope any other way, I do what I trained for so many hours, days, years: Automatically I use the right hand signs, process the perfect amount of chakra and seconds later there is a giant fireball headed for him.  
The intended effect doesn’t quite come to be as where he was standing just a moment ago, there is now only a spot of burned ground. Itachi already was long gone from where I aimed at when my jutsu arrived. But… where is he now?

My whole body goes rigid when I feel the cold steel pressed so my throat and the warm body at my back. He is far too professional to only use the blade, if you know how to do it you can escape a knife to your throat in no time at all. But if the knife is accompanied by a twisted arm and a kick to the legs, it’s a whole different matter. Nonetheless I have a feeling that there is a lot more bodycontact between us than strictly necessary to immobilize me.

Wait a second – I’m immbolilized? When did this happen?  
Suddenly clear again I check my options, just to come to the very frustrating conclusion that I have none. Itachi needed a whole of three seconds to render me completely helpless. This will go down in history as the shortest of all short fights. What a humiliation.

Aside from all the acute problems I have with this situation, there is also the matter of what this means for all our previous fights: If he is able to beat me this effortlessly, I never was a challenge for him at all. I never was a threat for him.

Like so many times before, it seems he is able to read my mind. “Of course you never were threat, little brother. Our fights were for the sole purpose of keeping your self-respect intact while simultaneously getting you in the right mood.”

It might sound strange for civilians that a fight for your life gets you in the right mood to fuck somebody’s brains out, but it’s not that uncommon. Almost every adult ninja could tell you stories about things that happened after hard, straining missions in dark forests and isolated caves – but none of them would. It’s an unspoken rule that none of this ever happened. How many ninja children were conceived during things that didn’t happen will never be known.  
Of course this normally happens with your comrades, not with the person that just tried to kill you… but what is nomal between Itachi and me?

“And now you don’t care for my self-respect anymore?,” I ask tense.  
“…no.” The little pause before he utters this word surprises me, but not as much as what comes afterwards. “But I don’t have much time left and I don’t want to waste it in pointless battles.” His warm breath tickles my neck and I can’t suppress a little shudder anymore. We both know why I only asked about the self-respect and not the mood.

I want him. I want him so much I even played with the thought of having sex with him without trying to kill him first in the past. Of course the idea seemed far too absurd to ever act on it, not even speaking of blatantly requesting it from him. I’m not like Itachi, even if a lot of people seem to think we are very alike. But the truth is, he was always far braver than me.  
He meets his challenges head-on.  
I run away from them. Or I run onto them. But I run in all cases.  
He always had his very own tempo of doing things, no matter if it’s fighting, living or fucking.

Where was I?  
Oh. I want him.

Now.

The really absurd thing is, he still has me on my knees in front of him, a kunai pressed to my throat, and the situation does not get less strange when he leans over me to press a hard kiss to my lips. He is neither gentle nor affectionate and his movement maneuvers my arm into an even more uncomfortable position, but I nonetheless respond to his kiss, I even open my mouth a bit.

It might be a sign of our in a unique way messed up relationship that I do that, but refuse to give him more room or any kind of control aside from what he already took without asking. His response is brutal. He yanks up my arm until I cry out, which of course goes soundless since he doesn’t seem to take my cry as a reason to stop kissing me. Instead he uses my moment of weakness to shove his tongue into my mouth.

I try to bite him, he let’s go of the kunai to slap me across the face, once from the right and once the left. His hits are so hard I need a moment to regain my senses and he uses this moment to get me fully to the ground and grab my other arm. I can feel him moving and then there are rough ropes on my skin, securing each of my hands to the elbow of the opposite arm. It’s a pretty uncomfortable position and it also serves the purpose of making it impossible to close handsigns.  
Rot in hell, perfectionistic asshole.

“What the fuck are you doing?,” I shout, angry and slightly concerned and with a mouth full of grass. Fuck, it’s really not that easy to talk with your face on the ground.  
“What does it feel like?”  
“I meant, why are you doing that?,” I snarl back at him.

“Because this will be the last time, Sasuke. And I don’t intend to have it ruined by your childish desire to resist your feelings.” Then he laughs, and Itachis laugh really is not something you hear very often. To be exact, I can’t really remember having him ever heard laughing, even if it has a sad undertone.  
Something is wrong with him and it’s even more obvious with this laugh than with his second hint that… what? That he will die? I can’t even imagine that. But something is definitely wrong.

But I’m neither in the mood nor in the position to think about this thoroughly, I’m much to… trapped by this situation. (Holy fuck, what the hell is wrong with me? Not able to think straight, but horrible puns are totally doable? Sometimes I really wonder what went wrong in my head and when. But this, too, is a question for another day.)

Itachi pulls at my bound arms and if I don’t want them to be dislocated, I have to follow the movement and get back to my knees. He is still behind me and it really irritates me that I can’t see what he’s doing, but being on my knees in front of him is still better than eating grass.

Something touches my burning cheek and with surprise I realize it’s Itachis hand touching me there. The same hand that just hit me caresses the cheek that’s still red from the slap, and it does so with a kind of tenderness that disturbs something deep inside of me.  
What disturbs me about this touch is as hard to describe with words as the whole rest of our relationship, but part of it might be that sex for us always was something more resembling the fight that just ended than an intimate experience.

This is… different. Not really caring, his slaps are far too recent to be, but… there just are no words.

“What are you doing?,” I ask weakly, and even just these few words need all of my attention to leave my lips. Most of my blood has gone to a different region of my body and left my brain with absolutely inadequate resources to function properly.

Instead of an answer I feel his second hand gliding below my shirt (I stopped wearing Orochimaru’s rags a long time ago, it’s a plain black ninja-shirt now) and caress my back. Each of his touches feels like little sparks for me and he can hardly miss my arousal now, the tent in my trousers is far too obvious in my pants and considering our situation, even harder to misinterpret. When his teasing fingers wander to the front and begin to explore my chest, I finally can’t resist anymore and arch my back in a hopeless attempt to kiss him. But all I get from Itachi is an arrogant smirk – like a mirror of the one I used to make Naruto furious – and a brush of his lips over mine before he brutally yanks on my hair to get me back into position.

“Ita-chiii,” I more hiss than say and even I myself don’t really know if it’s an upset hiss or a pleased one. My breathing is ragged and I’m already at the limit of my patience. He knows too good how to play me, how to hit the right nerves… or more like, all of my nerves. It’s this mixture of brutality and tenderness that makes me weak. And horny as fuck.

Finally one of his wandering hands decides to go where I so desperately want it and slowly pushes the waistband of my trousers down. I’m helping as much as possible, wiggle my way out of them and can’t suppress a moan anymore when cold air touches the hot skin of my dick for the first time. I’m kneeling there in front of him, only half undressed, bound and helpless, trembling with something between fury and arousal. My own ragged breath keeps me from identifying his sounds and with the pants still around my legs I can move even less than before, so I’m forced to wait what he will do next and it drives me nearly insane. This fucking bastard of a big brother… although it’s questionable if we should even call each other brothers anymore considering what we are about to do. But whatever he is to me, he should cut me loose, he should touch me, he should get his fucking act together and finally fuck me like he said he would, he should go to hell and die right at this instand – I don’t care as long as something happens. Just him sitting there behind me where I can’t see him, only feel his warm breath against the skin of my neck and not know what he is up to, that’s worse than everything else he could do. Dying and going to hell included.

Then, finally, after what feels like an eternity, his hands grab my hips and pull them back and down, guiding me where he wants me to be. I can feel his erection hard and hot at my backside, gliding into my crack and slightly touching my entrance. He would not… not without any preparation… he… oh, he would and he will. Slowly, but without any chance to escape, he presses me down onto his hard dick. It’s painful, but not as painful as it could be as I can feel something like lube on his dick and I can’t help myself but think that sometimes it’s not that bad to have a perfectionistic asshole for a brother since who else casually carries lube in his pockets? But 'not as painful as it could be' is still pretty damned painful. I cry as his cock widens my insides, much too fast even though he goes so slowly, his considerable girth taking up every millimeter of space there is to be taken – how in all hells a man as slim as him can have a dick like this is beyond me and no wiggling and twisting gets me away as his hands still have me in a grip that will probably leave bruises. But then it’s done and I’m awkwardly sitting in his lap with his dick up my ass and my bound arms pressed to his chest. Like before his cold hands brush my skin, soft, caring, nearly affectionate.

He gives me a moment to regain my senses before he starts moving and I do as well, still in pain but too horny, too desperate for sensation, too much lusting after him not to do it. Like I said, his mixture of pain and pleasure is absolutely deadly for my self control.

We move slowly but with a lot of force and it’s either the position or simply his skill, but he needs only a few thrusts before finding my prostate. I throw my head back and oblivious to all surroundings moan my pleasure out for the world to hear, no longer in any kind of control, no longer angry. No longer Uchiha, but only Sasuke. 

Itachis hand closes around my bouncing dick and just this touch is nearly enough to make me come undone, only his hard grip stopping me.  
“Tell me,” he whispers in a strained voice, “tell me what you feel.”  
“Argh,” is my very eloquent answer, I’m too far gone to speak. But he doesn’t let go, goes even further by using his second hand to stroke the tip of my penis, slowly, maddeningly so.  
“Tell me,” he demands and the pressure gets harder, painful now, and I gasp for air helplessly, finally resorting to crying out loud – but not because of the pain, but because he stopped moving inside me.

His one hand still keeping me from coming, the other one torturing my dick, rubbing, pinching and teasing it, even going as far as slapping my balls, which causes me to whine like a wounded animal… but the stars I see are definitely not from the pain alone. I’m far beyond all borders between lust or pain, it’s all pleasure now, painful, wonderful, fulfilling, maddening pleasure. I want him to fuck me so badly I’m willing to do pretty much everything.

“So good,” I gasp, “so deep – agh – inside. So hot. Painful. Hate you! Oohhhh – want you…” My next breath is cut short when he rolls his hips in promise of what I want so badly but at the same time presses the head of my poor cock so hard that the next sound coming from my mouth doesn’t sound like a human anymore.

I cry out, tears streaming down my face and finally he goes back to fucking me, but I don’t have to be forced anymore, the words are now coming on their own. “I hate you! I hate you, I – ah fuck – aaaahhhhhhh… love you… Itachi!” And then just: “Itachi, Itachi, Itachi…” until my voice breaks and he finally allows me to come. Then everything goes dark.

 

Seconds, minutes, hours later I wake up in his arms, lying half on top of him and pressed to his chest as if he fears I disappear as soon as he releases me. There it is again, this tenderness I don’t understand.

For a long time, we are just lying there. I’m not even bothered by the ropes anymore, I’m just happy to be able to touch him, to breath in his scent, to feel his warmth. I don’t even have to think.

But after some time, a single, nagging thought creeps into my head, tired and slowly, but nonetheless important.  
“What about you?,” I ask him softly. “What do you feel?”  
Just the hint of a smile touches his lips as he looks at me as if I asked him something as stupid as if it’s dark at night.

“I love you,” he simply sais. “I always have.”

That’s exactly the difference between us that I mentioned before: He needed to force and very nearly torture me to the brink of sanity to hear it. All I had to do was ask him.

A second question joins the first one, a lot less pressing, but important nonetheless.  
“What did you mean when you said it would be the last time?”  
Again my question seems to have been extraordinarily stupid, or at least that’s what his facial expression is telling me.

“I’m dying.”

“W-w-w… WHAT?”  
I’m even more shocked now than I was an hour ago when he announced he intended to fuck me. (Holy shit, was it really just an hour ago? It seems more like ages.)

“I’ve been dying for the last twelve years, Sasuke. It’s really about time now.” He doesn’t look at me while saying this, but his grip around me gets so strong I have trouble breathing. “I’m twenty-two now and that’s at least ten years older than even the most optimistic estimate ever gave me. But I wanted to see you growing up, so I refused to give up. Now it’s time for me to go.”

With slow, thoughtful movements he pushes me down from his chest and onto the grass, makes sure my clothes cover everything important and even strokes a strand of hair out of my face, before leaning over me and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Goodbye, Sasuke. And don’t follow me.”

I watch him confused as he collects chakra in his fingertips before touching my neck slightly. Then he finally cuts the ropes binding my arms to my back. I try to grab him as he leaves, but realize I can’t move my arm. Or my legs, as I soon notice. Or anything else. Grinding my teeth in frustration I have to admit that he really paralyzed me to make sure I don’t follow him.

It takes two hours before I can move again at all and another hour before I am able to walk properly again… although I will probably limp for several days thanks to his very cautious and restrained way of treating me and this has nothing to do at all with his use of chakra. 

I pick up my backpack where I left it behind when going to face Itachi and take a quick snack to fill up empty energy reserves.

Then I’m on my way to find Itachi.  
Demons shall eat me alive if I allow my beloved big brother to die alone somewhere, without a grave, without remembrance, without… me.

I will find him.  
I found him eight times, how hard can it be to find him a ninth time?


End file.
